And There Was No Sunlight
by LittleVolodya
Summary: Arthur gets a strange visitor one night. TW: Character Death


The knock on the door came late enough into the night that Arthur's eyelids were beginning to feel heavy, that warm phase in between awake and asleep, hands slightly unsteady in their task. His eyes shoot open, sleepiness forgotten for the moment, he never gets visitors at this hour. At least not ones who don't call ahead of time. He sets his needlework down and grabs the candle from the end table. He's a little wary in approaching the door, moving silently and he hesitates with his hand almost touching the knob. Another polite knock sounds, once, twice. The third comes swiftly after along with a light melodic voice.

"May I come in?"

The beautifully accented voice immediately puts Arthur at ease, slow and comforting like a sip of tea on a cool autumn night. This in turn sets his nerves alight, he's not one to be comforted by strangers and the swiftness that it had happened seems unnatural to him. Paranoid, his family always says, but he knows better.

He doesn't answer, for fear of provoking the voice on the other side. He feels a pull, a call to answer, and a thread of fear swells within. The velvety touch tugging on his very will, his hand completes it's journey to the doorknob. He just barely stops himself from twisting the cool metal beneath his fingers, he feels a bead of sweat drip slowly down his face.

Another set of three knocks. The voice like a song, smooth and soft, a wisp of smoke from a winter fireplace.

"Please let me in."

He feels his hand move, though he doesn't remember commanding it to do so. He hears the soft click of metal, the slight squeak of the hinges and then the door swings open. A small gust of cool wind blows past him, extinguishes the candle he'd brought to the door with him, fingers clutching the holder uselessly.

The tall stranger leans in, cloaked in shadows, mouth covered by a long, ancient scarf and whispers to him.

"Will you let me in, Arthur?"

Arthur takes a breath in, feeling the velvety touch wrap around him like a blanket, the most beautiful scent filling his nostrils. Snow and smoke, curling through the air, filling the room. The light tugging he'd felt before now seemed more like claws, swiftly and painlessly snapping his strings. He manages to nod, his eyes seem a little distant and unfocused.

The stranger moves fast. In the course of a blink, he's suddenly in the middle of Arthur's living room, looking around with interest before turning back to his host, violet eyes staring into Arthur's, unblinking.

"Thank you."

Without the door hindering it, Arthur can hear the double tone of his voice, both light and musical, and deep and raspy.

It washes over him, muting the tendrils of fear that threaten to break free of the smothering blanket that's making him feel pleasantly dazed. He moves to set down the candleholder, shutting the heavy wooden front door, and turns again to face his guest. He feels exhausted doing that little amount, muscles aching and his head pounding, so he leans against the door heavily.

The stranger watches him, Arthur tries to focus, but it's incredibly hard to not slip into blissful unconsciousness. He sees the stranger smile, lips quirking upward for a fraction of a second before nodding, seemingly pleased with something and then Arthur's head clears.

He's immediately alert, but weaponless, so he watches the other's movements with wary green eyes. He slowly moves away from the door, careful to keep his sights on this strange guest of his. He stops when he hears that odd double voice again.

"I apologise, but I heard from a trusted...acquaintance that we share that you may be able to help me."

"And who, pray tell, is this acquaintance of ours?"

"Alfred Jones." The stranger's lips curve upward, showing a quick peek of sharp teeth.

Arthur sighs in exasperation, honestly he should have known his fool for a best friend would have something to do with this. He was always making foolish decisions, but he trusts Alfred's judgment, so he relaxes.

"And if I may ask, what is Alfred doing with the likes of you?"

The stranger's smile widens, amused. "Are you sure you want to know the answer to that?"

Arthur grimaces, trust Alfred to become *friendly* with the kind of thing they usually hunt. "On second thought, I would rather not." He moves toward the kitchen. "Would you like some tea, Mr.?"

"You may call me Ivan and yes, if you don't mind."

Ivan follows Arthur, sitting upon a stool that Arthur motions towards, he watches Arthur's movements and wonders how his blood would taste. Better than Alfred's did anyway, it smells sweeter.

"Ivan" Arthur says as he puts the kettle on. "You mentioned that you needed my help?"

Ivan hums and closes his eyes. "Yes. I did mention that didn't I? It's a rather long story."

"That's alright. We have time."

"Yes we do." Ivan says softly, opening his eyes briefly to steal a glance at Arthur, he can hear his heartbeat, strong and calm. "It started when I was younger, before being turned. My family had come upon financial problems and they had no idea how to fix it. Fortunately, for them, a wealthy young man heard of their situation and offered them a huge sum of money. The only thing he wanted in return were three young children. They gladly accepted and handed my sisters and I over to this man. That was the last I saw of my parents, our new guardian later told me he burned our old house down because according to him, any monster willing to sell their own children doesn't deserve to live."

Feeling Arthur's gaze on him, Ivan opens his eyes lazily.

"You have a question?"

"It's hard to see why a monster would care so much about the lives of children."

Ivan looks away from Arthur, hums again. "He had a younger brother. He detested anyone who would harm a child in any way. He never hurt us, though one might argue that turning us was harmful, he viewed it as a gift. He wanted a companion for his little brother, vampire children can be quite difficult and he felt having a friend his age might serve to calm him down. My younger sister, Natalya, was to fill that role. He didn't turn my older sister and I until we were old enough."

Ivan steals another glance, Arthur is listening intently, his heartbeat still calm.

"We grew to look up to our new guardian. He cared for us more than our parents ever did. I was extremely grateful that he never separated us, though he really only needed Natalya."

"He taught us everything. We only ever drank from street urchins and murderers, people who wouldn't be missed. Even from animals, though the taste of their blood is disgusting. Our lives were good for the first time, we had each other and we were _happy_. Until a few months ago." Ivan pauses, feeling a rush of white-hot anger and sadness flow through him. "When a couple of hunters decided to play _hero_ and murder my family. Do you know what it's like to walk into your home to see the bodies of your loved ones lying on the floor? No heads, though I assume that's what was burning in the backyard. Do you know what that's like, Arthur?"

Ivan grins, teeth exquisitely sharp, he can hear Arthur's heart and it's definitely no longer calm. He relishes in it's frantic beating as he advances toward his prey.

The last thing Arthur hears is Ivan laughing.

* * *

Notes: I don't know what time frame this was supposed to be or what the hell I did to their speech patterns. The vampire and his younger brother were Romania and Moldova. Arthur didn't even get any tea before he died... Review if you'd like.


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